


what did you expect, really

by proto_typ3



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Other, they’re domestic and sweet and live in an apartment together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proto_typ3/pseuds/proto_typ3
Summary: Whirl discovers he is touchstarved.
Relationships: Cyclonus/Tailgate/Whirl (Transformers)
Kudos: 43





	what did you expect, really

It was an innocuous motion, really. Cyclonus wasn’t the type for flirting and public displays of affection or even  _ complements  _ when not behind closed doors. Whirl didn’t mind. Tailgate minded a little, but he knew it was a slow process. Cyclonus just wasn’t a touchy-feely time most of the time. Something about  _ vulnerability _ . The few and far between verbalizations were probably part of his show-don’t-tell shtick. Whirl didn’t mind. 

Until Cyclonus leaned against him reaching for something and Whirl’s plating fluttered, processor going hazy. He thought he’d recover as soon as Cyclonus retrieved whatever item, returning to his original posture on the couch, but  _ no _ , his frame betrayed him and he leaned into him. All Whirl could think was do that again, do that again,  _ do that again,  _ and the want must have bled into his field, because Cyclonus froze before gently wrapping his arm around him. 

A garbled purr escaped his chest as he pressed himself against him, wanting to burrow under his plating and live there. 

“What brought this on?”

Whirl rattled off a handful of insults and curses, now wrapping his arms around Cyclonus’s waist, one claw hooked into his hip armor.

The door slid open with a small beep. Whirl stilled.

“Hey, I’m back- Am I interrupting something?” 

“No, he’s just cuddly right now I suppose.” 

Whirl mumbled something that sounded close to “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” 

Cyclonus rubbed his side with one hand.  _ Primus _ , Whirl had never been more grateful for his minimal waist plating. Made the want for Cyclonus to grab him and throw him around even worse.

“Can I join?” Tailgate practically  _ radiated _ joy. Whirl could hear the sparkles and glitter from where they sat. 

“Of course.” His chest rumbled ever so slightly with the words. Did Cyclonus always do that? Did it take trying to shove his head into his chest cavity for Whirl to notice?

Tailgate sat on Cyclonus’s other side. Good, Whirl didn’t want to share his claimed shoulder. The minibot scooted in, shifting to half-curl into his lap. Whirl looked down at Tailgate. Tailgate beamed up at him. 

“How was your day?” He asked Whirl, stretching out across the rest of the couch. Whirl grumbled noncommittally before moving to press his face against Cyclonus’s neck. He was absently aware of how Cyclonus’s temperature was slowly rising under the two of them, but that was his problem, not Whirl’s. 

He tried to fold his cockpit closer to his torso and pinched a nerve, making him withdraw and fold it outwards again. 

“Slag in the  _ way _ -“ He transformed it down again, slower this time, and it locked into place without much more than the usual pressure such an action involved. “Nice.” He said to himself as he dove back in, this time grabbing Cyclonus’s arm and wrapping it tight around himself. Cyclonus seemed to get the message. He squeezed him tight and held him for a moment before releasing. That moment was pure bliss. His plating flared on the release and he  _ melted _ . 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more relaxed.” Tailgate pulled a claw into his lap and held it. Whirl could hardly manage a mumbled confirmation. He’d  _ never _ been this relaxed. Everything was warm and fuzzy and safe and  _ nice. _

“This is nice.” Cyclonus commented. 

“See! This is what both of you are missing out on. Cuddling doesn’t have to be limited to the berth.” 

“Shh-hhush up.” Whirl hissed, patting his face blindly. “Also move. I want his lap.” 

“Aw, I was comfortable.”

“Sit on top of me then, I don’t care.”

Tailgate scooted off Cyclonus.

“Do I not get a say in this?” Cyclonus said.

“Absolutely not.” Whirl said, quickly replacing Tailgate on his lap. Tailgate then patted his own lap.  _ Perfect, _ two whole bots to sprawl across. He wiggled forward and rested his head on Tailgate’s thigh as Cyclonus’s hands fell to Whirl’s back. Now  _ that’s _ good. It was a bit of an impossible angle, but with his own spindly anatomy, it worked out fine.

Cyclonus started idly stroking his back, tracing transformation seams and carefully repositioning a helicopter blade that was pressing a bit hard against his torso.

“No tickling.” 

“I wasn’t-“ Cyclonus supposed he should’ve asked.

“Hush.” Whirl flicked him with that same blade before settling them further out of the way. Tailgate started petting the top of his head. His engine rumbled and he kicked his feet, content, nuzzling into Tailgate’s hand.

“You’re so cute.” Tailgate cooed. 

“Am not.” Whirl hummed, closing his optic. 

“You are!” He insisted.

“Don’t argue with him, Whirl.” Cyclonus ran a claw along a seam, freeing a bit of grit he spotted. Whirl flared his plating, inviting him to groom as he pleased. He ran his hands over the various plates of metal, checking each seam meticulously for any more grit to dislodge. Back plating, especially on fliers even with Whirl’s less than obtrusive blades, were prone to such things. Hard to get at, hard to clean, complicated transformation mechanisms. Cyclonus let himself relax, trying not to think about the burst of affection and how his frame’s temperature had ratcheted upwards so fast. Calming breaths.

“I think he fell asleep.” Tailgate commed Cyclonus. Both of their hands stilled as they looked at him. 

Whirl’s optic flickered back on.

“Why’d you stop?” He grumbled with a pop of static. Cyclonus smiled to himself and continued going over his back. Tailgate leaned down to bump a small kiss to the top of Whirl’s head and continued his own little strokes.

Whirl purred deep in his chest, going lax again as his optic winked out.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
